Sometimes, I hear cookies and ice cream calling me from the kitchen at night, their voices like a siren song:
“Come to us… you deserve us…”
The vegetables, meanwhile, remain silent. Not a rustle, not a plea.
Perhaps they are too dignified to beg—or perhaps they have simply given up.
Once noble, now forgotten, they lie in the crisper drawer, bitter and resigned. They have seen too many betrayals: a half-peeled carrot, a chopped cucumber, abandoned for sugar-coated temptations.
Cookies and ice cream are the flashy party crashers of midnight snacking, stealing the spotlight while broccoli clutches its pearls in quiet horror.
The veggies do not compete anymore.
They sip kale juice in the shadows and whisper: “We tried… but how do you fight mint chocolate chip?”
In the theatre of late-night cravings, vegetables are the understudies—forever waiting in the wings.